Scarlet Town
by Heavenly Azure
Summary: Set in Oregon, 1870. This story centers around Emma Thorne, who finds herself without a place to live and without a job very early on in the story. She is offered a position as a cook and farmhand by Merle Dixon, an outsider with a place of his own up in the mountains. Drama, romance, and zombies ensue... (DarylxOC)
1. The Fate of The Farm

**Chapter 1 - The Fate of The Farm**

_"Look at that deep well._

_Look at that dark grave;_

_ringing that iron bell_

_in Scarlet Town today..."_

**Oregon, 1870**

Emma rode upon the town of Scarlet early on the second to last Monday of summer. The town was already bustling with people - men on their way to work, women on their way to the store or out working in their yards, children on their way to the schoolhouse or our helping their mothers with the daily grind. Though Emma usually rode into town strictly on farm business, that day she was in Scarlet Town on a very different sort of business. She knew that her affairs for the day would change her life forever. What she didn't know, as she made a clicking sound with her mouth to signal her horse to ride on down the hill and into town, was that her life was about to change - but not in the way she was expecting. She would soon find out just what surprises lay in store for her as she entered the town limits. A wooden sign on the side of the dirt road proclaimed the name of the town proudly in red lettering. The red letters faded quickly, so they needed frequent maintenance in order to keep the town name bold and vibrant against the wood.

Emma guided her horse through town in the direction of the courthouse. It was one of the larger buildings in town and one of the oldest. It was a red brick, two story building with two impressive chimneys on either side of the roof from the front. Both the windows and balcony were painted white. There were several hitching posts out front. Emma tugged gently on her horse's reigns to pull her to a stop at one of the available posts. She stood up in the saddle at the same time she swung her right leg over the horse to jump down. It was considered indecent for women not to ride sidesaddle, but Emma had never even been taught how to do so. She wasn't interested in learning how, and was pretty sure that even if she was taught, she wouldn't be any good at it. Nobody in town seemed to be offended, at least not to Emma's face.

"Sit tight, Nelly." Emma murmured to the horse, giving her neck an enthusiastic pat.

After she had fished through her saddlebags for the necessary papers she would need, Emma headed up the court steps. As she approached the front door, it opened. A well dressed man stepped out, giving Emma a smile. He held the door open for her and tipped his hat.

"Ma'am."

"Thank you." Emma gave the man a courteous nod as she stepped inside the courthouse.

There was a tall desk at the end of the room. Emma approached it and the man sitting behind it. He looked up from what he was doing when Emma got close.

"Where are you headed, ma'am?" The man asked, adjusting his eyeglasses.

"Mr. Hershel Greene's will is being read today." Emma handed the man a piece of paper she had received exactly one week after Hershel's death. "I have an invitation to sit in on the reading."

"Ah, yes." The man handed the paper back to Emma without much inspection. "You'll want to head upstairs. It'll be the first door on your left."

"Thank you." Emma replied.

"Should I escort you up, ma'am?" The man asked as Emma stepped away from his desk.

"No, thank you."

Emma went up the stairs, flipping through her papers to make sure she had everything she needed. When she was certain she did, she approached the first door on her left. She had given herself a pep talk before leaving the farm that morning. She knew there was a good chance that at least one of Hershel's children would try to intervene, so Emma was prepared for that. There was no way any of Hershel's children would get the farm. Emma would make damn certain of that.

With a deep breath, Emma opened the door. She was glad she had prepared herself, because the first face she saw was that of Maggie Greene's. She was tall for a woman, but had a feminine body which she accentuated with the appropriate clothing. Her white blouse was tailored to fit her like a second skin, the material straining slightly across her breasts. A belt was pulled tight at her waist, putting her hourglass figure on display for the rest of the town to see and admire. The gray-blue skirt she donned was practically a perfect match to the color of her eyes. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled off of her face with a black ribbon to match the buttons on her shirt. Emma couldn't help but smirk. If Maggie Greene thought she could get her way by looking pretty, she had another thing coming.

"Emma." Maggie acknowledged her quietly, sticking her nose in the air as she turned her head in the opposite direction as Emma.

"Hello, Maggie." Emma replied coolly.

"Thank you for joining us, Mrs.-"

"Ms." Emma corrected the man standing behind the desk, walking forward to put my hand in his outstretched one.

"My apologies, Ms. Thorne." The man shook Emma's hand firmly, but she could see the confusion in his eyes.

Most people Emma met were surprised and perplexed that at her age, twenty-five, she was not yet married. It truly didn't bother Emma. She had learned over the years that many things about her came as a shock to those around her. Emma was not married for a very good and simple reason - she had no desire to be married at the present time. In truth, she wasn't sure that she ever would be ready to settle down with someone. She didn't give it much thought. There had never been a time in her life when she had the opportunity to think of being with someone when she had been taking care of herself since she was young. She didn't have the time to sit idly by while some boy fussed over her every want and desire. She was perfectly capable of doing what needed to be done on her own.

"Mr. Brooks, would you kindly shut the door so that we can begin?" The man behind the desk swept his arm in the direction of the door as he spoke to Maggie's husband.

Glenn Brooks had money. The key word being _had_. Glenn squandered his inheritance gambling in the south before a friend of the family offered him a job in Oregon. It was upon his move that Glenn met Maggie. They made quite a pair. Glenn had boyish good looks and Maggie was a beauty to any person who could manage to get one eye open. They both loved and desired money over anything else. Though the lumber business was booming, and Glenn had his teeth in it, he and his wife were always spending faster than they could bring the profits in. It was for that reason, and that reason alone, that Maggie had suddenly turned up in Scarlet Town that morning.

While Glenn closed the door, Emma took a seat in front of the desk. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Maggie studying her. Emma turned her head towards Maggie, looking her square in the eye. Maggie had been trying to see what was on the papers in Emma's hands. When Emma locked eyes with her, Maggie scoffed softly and rolled her eyes in a different direction. Emma looked down at the papers in her lap with a smile.

"Now, then, let's begin." The man behind the desk sat down and picked up the stack of papers in front of him. "You have all been invited here today so that we may read Mr. Hershel Greene's last will and testament. In attendance we have Mr. and Mrs. Glenn Brooks, Ms. Emma Thorne, and myself, Cap Shaw."

Mr. Shaw was dictating aloud to a tiny woman sitting in the corner of the room. She was recording each word on a gargantuan typewriter in front of her. The typewriter was practically bigger than the woman sitting behind it.

"Mr. Greene's stepson, Shawn, was invited. He declined the invitation. Mr. Greene's youngest daughter, Beth, was also invited." Mr. Shaw shifted to face Maggie. "I understand she was unable to attend due to her difficult pregnancy?"

"Yes." Maggie placed a hand over her heart. "My sister was just _devastated _that she was unable to be here, but her life and the life of her child come first."

Emma tried not to snicker at Maggie's act. She was overdoing it.

"I see." Mr. Shaw nodded and returned to the papers he was holding. "Mr. Greene has a letter attached to his will. It was his instructions that the letter be given to Ms. Thorne. I'll hand that over to you now."

Mr. Shaw leaned forward with a single piece of paper. As Emma reached out to accept the letter, Maggie suddenly snatched the paper from Mr. Shaw.

"Mrs. Brooks-"

"This is ridiculous, Mr. Shaw." Maggie interrupted Mr. Shaw, the letter now wrinkled in her hand from having snatched it from him so violently. "Hershel was _my_ father-"

It was Emma's turn to interrupt.

"Maggie, you hand that letter to me now." Emma ordered Maggie with a level tone and direct eye contact as she turned in her chair to face her completely.

Maggie's mouth was agape, her eyes flickering back and forth between the silent Mr. Shaw and Emma.

"I'm not going to ask you again." Emma's voice was ice when she spoke.

Maggie's face suddenly changed right before everyone's eyes. She looked to Mr. Shaw with gray-blue eyes that had expertly become full of tears, her trembling lips parted as she made sad, soft sounds.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Brooks." Mr. Shaw apologized, folding his hands on his desk. "Your father asked that the letter be given to Ms. Thorne. She can do with it what she wants."

Just as quickly as Maggie's face had changed before, in a flash, she was looking furiously up at her husband. She was fuming with anger because he had not tried to intervene on her behalf. Glenn tried to make up for his mistake by setting his hand on his wife's shoulder. She pulled her shoulder out from under his hand before she turned towards Emma.

"Here." Maggie snapped, thrusting the letter out to Emma.

Emma took the wrinkled letter from Maggie.

_Emma,_

_ Over the years, we have gotten to know each other. You know about my two wives, how they were both taken from me before their time. You also know about my daughters and my stepson. I remember the very day I told you about them. It was our second Thanksgiving together, although, I consider it our first since that first year you worked for me, things between us were not as they are now. I digress. You listened while I told you about Maggie, who always longed for more than I could ever give her. You listened while I told you about Shawn, who never viewed me as any sort of father figure or friend. You listened while I told you about Beth, who left home and never forgave me for those years I lost myself in the bottle. My children were either a disappointment to me, or I was a disappointment to them. _

_ That day you asked me for a job on the farm, I was out of any hope that my children would fulfill me and bring me any sort of joy. Today, I am fulfilled. It is because of you, Emma, that this old man is filled with joy. You have become the daughter I never and should have had. Maybe it is arrogant to think that I am owed anything, but after losing two loves in one lifetime, I don't think it was too much to ask for a companion such as you._

_ You are different, but that's what makes you special, Emma Anne. Believe me when I say, dear, that I love everything about you. I love you for your strong, independent side. Just as I have experienced my share of tragedies, so have you. Most children your age, without any family to support and guide them, would have withered away. Not you, Emma. Not you. Though you may not realize it, or even know it's there, there are small moments in which you let another side of you shine through. In those moments, I love you just as much, maybe even more. Do not forget it is there and do not deny its existence. Give that part of yourself the room to grow. Share that part of yourself with the rest of the world, but only if they are deserving of seeing and experiencing it._

_ I have one final request. I must ask that you forgive me. You must forgive me for my weakness. Just three years after you came to be with me, Maggie reached out to ask for my help. Before you came, I might have cast her letter aside, but you showed me that to hope for the better is not a foolish thing. In order to settle debts Glenn and Maggie owed, I made an agreement with the bank that if I were unable to repay the loan, they could seize my farm once I passed on. I am so sorry. From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry that the farm that should have been so rightfully yours will not be._

_ I love you, Emma, and God willing, I will be watching you._

With a clenched jaw to keep the tears at bay, Emma lifted her head to look Mr. Shaw in the eye. The moment their eyes met, he cast his down. Mr. Shaw knew what information Emma had just learned, but there was nothing he could do. The deal had been made.

"I have the deed to the farm right here." Emma lifted the paper in a futile attempt to claim Hershel's farm. "Hershel entrusted it to me when he got sick."

"She can't-"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Thorne." Mr. Shaw finally lifted his gaze. "Though Mr. Greene's intentions were to leave the farm to you, his contract with the bank supersedes his wishes."

"What about me?" Maggie whined, laying her hands on Mr. Shaw's desk. "You had to have invited me here for a reason, Mr. Shaw."

"I invited you here as a courtesy, Mrs. Brooks." Mr. Shaw replied frankly, folding his hands on his desk. "Mr. Greene was your father, therefore, you had a legal right to be here."

"So...he left me nothing?" Maggie asked, lifting an eyebrow as she sucked in her cheeks.

"I'm afraid not, ma'am." Mr. Shaw answered with a sigh.

Maggie stood so quickly that Mr. Shaw jumped back in his chair. With a snap of her long fingers, Glenn was following her out the door. Maggie opened the door, slamming it against the wall with such force that the room shook. Glenn left it open as he followed his wife out.

"Mr. Shaw, is there anything I can do?" Emma asked, ignoring Maggie's dramatic exit. "You and I both know that this is wrong."

"I wish there was something I could do for you, but the most I can do is get you a few days to get your affairs in order." Mr. Shaw got up from his desk and circled it, taking a seat on the corner right in front of Emma. "The bank owns the farm, but not Mr. Greene's personal effects. Go back to the farm, pack up anything you can, and leave the past behind you."

Emma looked down at the useless deed in her hand.

"For what it's worth, Ms. Thorne, I believe an injustice is being done here today."

Emma folded Hershel's letter into a square small enough to fit in her skirt pocket. When the letter was tucked away, she got to her feet. There was nothing more she could do. Though she had brought the deed with her, it didn't matter. The deed held no merit with a contract existing between Hershel and the bank.

"Thank you, Mr. Shaw." Emma finally said, extending her hand.

Mr. Shaw turned to set the deed on his desk. When he turned, he shook Emma's outstretched hand, placing his other hand on the other side of hers. He clasped Emma's hand in his for several moments before he released her. Once she was free of his grasp, Emma was on her way out of the office and the courthouse entirely.

Outside, Emma saw a carriage pulled up in front of the hitching posts. The driver of the carriage was fixing what appeared to be one of the wheel axles. Glenn was standing over the driver giving him a piece of his mind. Maggie was sitting inside of the carriage, silently fuming. Emma had the intense urge to approach Maggie, but as she took a step in her direction, she decided against it. With a single shake of her head, Emma turned and headed over to where Nelly was hitched up.

"You didn't really think the farm would be yours, did you?" Maggie said suddenly.

Emma stopped in her tracks. She stared hard at the ground, thinking about whether or not Maggie Greene was worth her time. As Emma remembered the horrible stories Hershel had told her about his oldest daughter's behavior, she decided that if not for herself, she owed it to the old man to let Maggie have it in one way or another. So, Emma pivoted, and strode back to the carriage. As Maggie lifted her head in surprise, Emma seized her by the wrist and yanked her solidly out of the carriage. Maggie barely caught herself.

"Let-"

"Listen to me, Maggie. You did enough talking upstairs." Emma snarled low enough for Maggie's ears only. She kept a firm grip on Maggie's wrist as she pulled her in closer. "Before I came here today, I promised myself and whatever higher power there is that I would be damned before one of your daddy's children got a piece of his land. I would rather the farm be turned over to the bank then allow you to get your insatiable, grubby, selfish fingers on it."

Emma released Maggie harshly, sending the woman back a few steps in surprise. She raised the deed, and when she did, Maggie raised a hand and flinched. Emma smirked.

"I may not look the part so well as you, but I _am _a lady." Emma tossed the deed at Maggie. "That's the only piece of your daddy's farm you'll ever have."

With that, Emma turned and left Maggie behind. She hoped to never see the woman again.

0o0o0

It was a three hour ride from Scarlet Town to Hershel's ten and a half acre farm. By the time Emma got back after her trip to the courthouse, it was well into the afternoon. She had things to do and not much time to do it in, so she didn't plan on wasting any time. She had to make sure the animals were fed and taken care of before she left in the morning and a house to sort through and get packed up. Emma knew that though anything was hers for the taking, she wouldn't be able to pack up much. She had no idea where she was going to end up. She couldn't lug around more than she could afford to load up in the carriage.

Hershel had five horses in all - two fillies, a colt, a stallion, and Nelly, who was the oldest horse out of the lot. It might have not been the wisest choice, but Emma decided right away that she would take Nelly with her. If she didn't, there was a good chance Nelly would be killed for her meat or her hide. Emma would make sure the remaining four horses were cleaned, groomed, and given enough food to last until the bank took possession of the farm. She would do the same with Hershel's cows. If the ride into Scarlet Town weren't as long and it wasn't summertime, Emma would have taken any milk she got from the cows with her for trade. The milk would surely spoil on the journey, so Emma would just have to leave that behind too. She couldn't leave the poor cows full of milk, though. So, even though she wouldn't be profiting off of it, Emma milked all of the cows.

"You thirsty, Skipper?" Emma asked when the lazy basset hound padded into the barn. She looked over at the droopy faced dog, who was slowly but surely making his way over to her. When he was close enough, Emma aimed one of the teats at him. "Open up, boy."

The dog opened his mouth as Emma squirted milk at him. She couldn't help but smile. Hershel had always accused Emma of spoiling Skipper, but Emma had a soft spot for him. Even though it took Hershel an entire year to warm up to Emma, Skipper had always been fond of her. On her first night in the loft, Skipper joined Emma in her small bed. At first he was able to hop up on the bed on his own, but over the years, Emma had to lug him up into it herself. Emma often slept on her side with her legs curled up into a C shape. Skipper always slept in the little nook her long legs created. His head was heavy on her, but Emma didn't mind. Skipper was warm and comforting. On stormy nights, he would actually lay on top of Emma's pillow, right next to her head. On those nights, he would drool into Emma's hair.

"Well, boy, we have a lot to get done tonight." Emma announced to the dog as he settled himself down beside the stool she was sitting on. "Are you going to help me out?"

Emma looked down at Skipper, but he was already fast asleep. Emma chuckled to herself.

As she moved from cow to cow, Skipper would rouse just long enough to follow her. When she finished milking the cows, Emma started on the horses. There were the two fillies, Amber and Ruby, then there was their stallion, Barrow. The colt, King, was newer to the group. Hershel had only had him for about six months before he died. Amber and King were very similar. They were both buckskinned, although Amber was more golden side while King was creamy. They were also both stubborn and ornery. Amber was prone to bucking her rider if she didn't get her way, although there was a trick that usually kept her behavior at bay for a short time - a handful of sugar cubes. Ruby was a blood bay beauty, and she knew it too. She loved being groomed. It wasn't uncommon for Ruby to begin to snort and make a fuss if she felt she wasn't brushed long enough. Even though old Nelly held a special place in Emma's heart, her favorite horse of the lot was Barrow. He was a mighty black stallion with eerie human eyes. Emma loved him for his character. He was a strong horse, displaying his dominance over King quickly when he arrived on the farm. Barrow was also gentle, though. Emma saw the way he looked after Nelly. He always made sure she got her turn at the trough when all the horses were out in the pasture. There was a jagged scar on Barrow's rump from when he had protected the other horses from a gray wolf. Hershel had shot and killed that wolf, then skinned it so that he could hang the hide from Barrow's stall door. Barrow seemed proud of it. He didn't like it when anyone touched the hide. It was _his _badge of honor.

"The rider who ends up with you is a lucky son of a gun, B." Emma murmured softly to the horse as she ran a brush through his dark mane.

Barrow suddenly turned his head towards Emma. She looked up to meet his brown eyes. She recognized the emotion in them. It sent a shiver down her spine. Barrow knew something was wrong. He wanted to know what was going on, but Emma had no way of telling him. She gave him a sad smile as she ran a hand down his muzzle.

"I wish I could afford to take you with me, Barrow."

Barrow reached out, running his forehead up and down Emma's face. She put her arms around the horse's thick neck, her cheek against his soft coat. She could smell Hershel's aftershave ingrained in Barrow's black coat and hair. Barrow had always been Hershel's favorite too, but when the old man started growing weak, he didn't have the strength to ride the powerful horse. Emma knew Hershel would forgive her for leaving Barrow behind, because she knew that Barrow was too great a horse to fall into just anyone's hands. Barrow would be well taken care of by whoever bought him.

Up the ladder and into the loft was Emma's first home on the farm. It was where she and Hershel had first met, and also where he let her stay after he hired her as a farmhand. Emma still remembered how it felt waking up with a sawed off shotgun pointed at her face.

_Emma was startled awake. For a split second, she thought it was due to the bright lightning or the booming thunder. When her eyes snapped open, though, she was met with the double barrels of a shotgun. Emma nearly sat up, but the shotgun came closer when she moved. Instead, she slowly propped herself up on her elbows. She knew that she was in the wrong, so she decided that it would be inappropriate to fight back._

_ In the shadows, it was difficult to make out the figure holding the shotgun._

_ "What are you doing in my barn?" A man's voice asked, breaking the silence._

_ Emma could tell from the voice that the man was older._

_ "I was just trying to get in out of the rain." Emma replied calmly._

_ "This isn't an inn." The old man informed Emma firmly, keeping the shotgun leveled at her head._

_ "I know, and I'm sorry." Emma apologized genuinely._

_ "Should I even bother to ask you if you took anything?" The old man asked with a sigh._

_ "Like I said, I was just trying to get out of the rain. I may be trespassing, but I'm not a thief."_

_ The old man didn't say anything for a time. Then, he lowered his gun._

_ "Collect your things and get on your way. You'll have no more trouble from me." The old man said._

_ "If anyone here was causing trouble, it was me." Emma admitted, sitting upright. "I'm sorry that I got you up in the middle of the night, and in the rain no less."_

_ "Young lady, I've been working this farm all my life - rain, sleet, snow, or shine." The old man snorted._

_ "Be that as it may, it would make me feel a lot better if you let me make it up to you."_

_ "How's that?" The old man asked skeptically._

_ "Let me work for you tomorrow free of charge." Emma suggested._

_ The old man chuckled quietly in the darkness._

_ "Sir, I've been working on farms all _my _life - rain, sleet, snow, or shine." Emma retorted, folding her arms over her chest. "You may find that you like my work so much that you want to hire me yourself."_

_ The old man's laughter grew louder._

_ "I doubt that very much, but I'm willing to give you a chance to prove yourself."_

_ Emma smiled and put her hand out for the old man to shake._

_ "It's a deal, Mr...?"_

_ Emma looked down at the old man's hand as it came towards her out of the shadows. It was worn with work and age. The palm was callused and rough in hers, matching up perfectly with her own. She could feel the old man studying her own calluses with his hand. He was beginning to believe that Emma was telling the truth._

_ "Mr. Greene." The old man finally replied._

Emma slid two trunks down the ladder. When she climbed down after them, she patted her hand against her thigh to signal Skipper to follow her out of the barn. He trotted after her as she made her way up to the house from the barn, dragging both trunks behind her.

The farmhouse was white. It had recently been repainted, so the color was vibrant. The summer sun reflected off of it, blinding Emma as she pulled the trunks up to the house. She left the trunks on the wrap around porch, then opened the door for Skipper. He made his way inside, his nails clicking against the hardwood floor. Emma followed him in. She kicked her boots off by the door. It was a bad habit, not untying her laces. It wore her boots out, but Emma liked them that way. They formed better to her feet with the wear and tear.

While Skipper made himself comfortable on the cool kitchen floor, Emma started rolling up the sleeves of her shirt. Truth be told, it wasn't hers. It was Hershel's, but Emma had been wearing men's shirts her whole life. She owned a few women's blouses, but they weren't practical for working or riding in. So, she mostly lived in the men's shirts she had collected over the years. Since she was alone in the house, Emma unbuttoned her skirt and stepped out of it. She folded it over a chair at the kitchen table. Wearing only Hershel's shirt and her hose, Emma started the task of sorting through everything in the house. There were items she could keep for herself, items she could trade or sell, and items she would have to leave behind.

Emma started in the kitchen. As she sorted through the different utensils, cookware, and such, she was reminded of the first meal she ever made for Hershel. After he had let her work for him for the day in order to repay him for her having slept in his barn without his consent, Emma had closed the day by making Hershel dinner. Emma was a damn good cook. She whipped out her best recipe that night - meatloaf.

_Emma was able to scrounge up most of the ingredients she would normally use when making her meatloaf. The only item missing was parsley, which didn't concern Emma. She was able to pick two green peppers and an onion from Hershel's garden. She chopped those up finely, throwing them into the ground beef she took from the icehouse. Into that, she cracked an egg. She sprinkled in salt and pepper before working the mixture around with her hands. Meanwhile, two slices of bread were soaking in milk. She added those to the mixture, then topped it off with ketchup. Her hands were a mess as she worked the meat into a loaf._

_ Emma watched that meatloaf cook more closely than she ever had before. She barely managed to whip up mashed potatoes and green beans to go with the meatloaf she kept such an eye on it while it baked. She knew that the dinner she served to Hershel could make or break her opportunity to work for him permanently. He had seemed pleasantly surprised and impressed with her work that day. Emma had woken up at dawn at started the chores Hershel had given her to do. She hauled water, fed and groomed the animals, gathered eggs, milked the cows, cleaned out the chicken coop, washed clothes, and mended several articles of clothing for Hershel. Emma didn't mind the hard work. It made her feel useful, accomplished. If there was one thing she knew, it was how to work hard. That was the only way things got done. That was the only way she had been able to take care of herself for so long._

_ When it was time for dinner, Emma rang the bell hanging on the porch. Hershel was out repairing a fence. Skipper came running long before Hershel did. Emma had cooked him some of the ground beef separate from the meatloaf mixture. She spooned it into his bowl and watched the dog gobble it up with a grin._

_ "Smells good in here." Hershel said as he walked in the front door._

_ "I hope you like it." Emma replied simply, setting the table as Hershel took off his jacket and hung it up on the hook by the door._

_ Emma waited for Hershel to be seated before she took a seat across the table from him. She already had his plate in front of her. She placed a generous slice of meatloaf on his plate, followed by potatoes and green beans. There were slices of white bread and butter in the center of the table. Emma passed the plate to Hershel, then started to serve herself. She glanced up every couple of seconds to see if Hershel had started to eat. He was taking his time. He folded his hands in silent prayer, then buttered a slice of bread. He took a drink of his milk, then had another drink. He seemed to know that Emma was on pins and needles waiting to see if he liked her meal. Finally, Hershel picked up his fork and started to eat. He started with the green beans, then took a bite of the potatoes. Last, he cut a piece of meatloaf to try. Emma nonchalantly watched as he put the meatloaf into his mouth. Hershel chewed thoughtfully for a minute, then swallowed. Emma waited for Hershel's reaction._

_ Hershel cut into the meatloaf again and used the bite to scoop up some of the mashed potatoes._

_ "You can stay in the loft." Hershel said as the fork was on its way to his mouth. "The work day starts at daybreak and ends at sundown."_

Most of what was in the kitchen would be staying put. It was either to large to carry with Emma, or it was of little use to her on the road. She had no idea how long she would be without a roof over her head. In the meantime, she couldn't afford to carry every little thing with her. She would have to make due without some items, like cookware. She had done it before.

Emma moved on to the living room next. It was the biggest room in the house by far, with a warm and inviting fireplace in the corner. Skipper was laying down in front of the fireplace as though there was a fire roaring there. It reminded Emma of the night Amber was nearly swept away in the river a few miles east of the farm. That was the night Hershel and Emma's relationship started to change.

_Hershel and Emma were out hunting pheasant when the storm hit. Well, Hershel was hunting. He had put Emma in charge of collecting the pheasants he shot. Skipper helped by following after Emma and licking the heads of the dead pheasants. When the rain started, Skipper kept brushing his head against Emma's legs as she and Hershel made their way out of the woods to where they had left the horses to graze. Hershel picked up the dog and laid him across the front of Barrow's saddle. Hershel climbed on behind Skipper, keeping one hand on the dog and one on the reigns._

_ The rain had really started coming down as Hershel and Emma rode in the direction of the farm. By the time they reached the river they would have to cross to get home, the storm had reached the height of its ferocity. Hershel and Emma got out of their saddles to guide the horses through the raging river. Hershel went into the river first, pulling Barrow across after him. Barrow was brave and strong. He trudged through the rushing water with ease. Skipper remained still in the saddle as he was pelted with rain. Emma watched Hershel carefully to make sure that he got across. He may have been old, but Hershel was tough. He was able to make it safely across the river with Barrow in tow. It was Emma's turn to guide Amber across._

_ Emma started into the water. The current was strong, but Emma could manage it. She braced herself against the splashing water as she clicked for Amber to follow her. The horse was visibly nervous. Amber tried backing away, but Emma gave the reigns a gentle tug. She reached out to try and soothe the horse by running a hand up and down Amber's muzzle. The stubborn horse stopped trying to back away from the water's edge, but she remained still. Emma clicked at the horse again, giving the reigns a firmer tug. Amber snorted in protest, but she slowly stepped into the fast moving water. Emma clicked at Amber in encouragement as she started slowly guiding the horse through the waves. It was going so well, until a truly large clap of thunder echoed through the stormy darkness. It frightened Amber, sending her rearing up, hooves flailing. The reigns were pulled from Emma's grasp. Then, suddenly, Amber was falling over into the water. Emma watched in horror as the horse was swept downriver, fighting the whole way._

_ "Emma!" Hershel shouted over the storm. "Emma, grab my hand!"_

_ Emma looked to Hershel, who was standing on the bank with his hand outstretched in her direction. She could have easily made her way to him and gotten to safety, but she knew Amber was in trouble. After only a moment's hesitation, Emma started off after Amber as Hershel called after her to come back. Emma was making little progress fighting the waves on foot, so she threw herself into the water. She swam with the current, making out Amber's struggling form whenever the lightning provided light to see. At last, Emma caught up to the panicked horse. She grabbed hold of Amber's rump to keep from being pushed past her. Emma reached up towards Amber's muzzle. The horse was thrashing her head around, whinnying and neighing in terror._

_ "Easy, girl!" Emma yelled as she fought against the horse for control._

_ At last, Emma had a feel for the reigns. She wrapped them around her hand to ensure she wouldn't lose them._

_ Hershel had followed Emma's swimming form downriver after climbing into Barrow's saddle. When he caught sight of Emma and Amber, he climbed down to help them. In the flashes of lightning, Hershel watched Emma fighting with Amber in the water. She was unwilling to leave the stubborn beast behind, even if that meant putting herself in danger. Hershel acted quickly when he saw Emma struggling to pull Amber to safety. He moved Barrow close to the edge of the river so that he could tie Amber's reigns to Barrow's saddle._

_ "Emma!" Hershel called out. "Emma, the reigns! Hand me the reigns!"_

_ Emma saw Hershel with his hand outstretched. She was able to pull Amber close enough to where Hershel could grab the reigns. He quickly tied them to Barrow's saddle. While he did that, Emma climbed into Amber's saddle._

Emma realized she had been staring into the empty fireplace. Skipper was watching her with droopy eyes, as though he knew Emma was reminiscing about his former master.

_"Why did you do it?" Hershel asked as Emma stoked the fire, a quilt wrapped around her shoulders._

_ "What?" Emma asked, turning away from the flames._

_ "Why did you go after Amber?" Hershel asked. "You could have been killed."_

_ Emma pushed a wet strand of hair behind her ear before she turned her head back around towards the warm fire. Skipper was curled up beside her. She stroked his damp fur._

_ "I couldn't just leave her." Emma replied simply._

_ That night, Hershel made up Maggie and Beth's old bedroom for Emma to sleep in. That was where she remained for the rest of their time together._

Emma went upstairs where both bedrooms were located. Hershel had been living on the farm his whole life. He inherited it after his parents died, and lived there with both of his wives. He and his first wife, Josephine, had only one child together - Maggie. Josephine died of tuberculosis when Maggie was little. Hershel remarried two years after Josephine's death. Annette brought her son from a previous marriage, Shawn, into her marriage to Hershel. Together, they had Beth. Hershel and Annette had shared a bedroom, so had Maggie and Beth. Shawn slept in the living room on the sofa. When he got older, he moved out to the loft.

For the past four years, Emma called Maggie and Beth's bedroom home. It was small, with barely enough room for the double bed, bureau, and vanity. Emma often had to squeeze past furniture to get in and out of the room, but she didn't mind. It was warm and cozy. Besides, she didn't have much to fill the room with. Her clothes were tucked away in the bureau and her toiletries and personal effects were laid out on the vanity. Emma would be taking all of her things with her on her journey. She folded up her clothes - two blouses, two shirts, two skirts, two sets of undergarments, and one pair of long trousers. She placed everything else on top of the stacks of clothes. She would carry them down after she went through Hershel's room.

Emma went to Hershel's bedroom door. It was wide open. She looked in at the bed, which she had made after the coroner had taken Hershel's body away. Hershel had been growing weaker the past six months, but it still came as a shock to Emma when he became ill.

_Hershel was sleeping when Emma brought a tray up for him for dinner. She quietly went to his side, setting the tray on the nightstand by the bed. There was a bowl of vegetable soup, two pieces of dry toast, and a tall glass of milk. Emma knew Hershel wouldn't be able to finish any of it, but she hoped. His appetite had been getting worse and worse as time passed. Emma could see life draining out of his body every moment of every day, but there was very little she could do. She took care of everything on the farm herself, as well as cared for Hershel, but still she felt helpless. She had brought the doctor in from Scarlet Town twice, but he said the same thing both times - there was nothing more to be done._

_ "Is that your vegetable soup?" Hershel asked suddenly, his eyes still closed._

_ Emma smiled._

_ "It sure is."_

_ Hershel opened his eyes. He looked up at Emma with a smile of his own._

_ "This sure is a treat." Hershel looked over at the steaming bowl. "You usually don't whip this up until it starts getting cold outside."_

_ "Well, today is your lucky day." Emma reached for Hershel. "Why don't I sit you up so that you can eat something?"_

_ Emma helped Hershel sit up and fluffed his pillows._

_ "Why don't you just sit with me for a minute?" Hershel asked as Emma went to pick up the bowl of soup._

_ Emma sat down in the rocking chair at Hershel's side._

_ "How are you feeling?" Emma asked._

_ "I don't want to talk about that." Hershel waved his hand at Emma. "I'm tired of you watching me as though I were going to drop dead any minute."_

_ Emma looked down at the floor._

_ "I don't mean to sound ungrateful." Hershel's voice softened. "You've taken such great care of me. I feel blessed to have had you in my life, and not just now, but these five years you've been with me."_

_ Emma glanced up to see that Hershel was reaching out to her. She leaned forward to grab his hand with a smile. His palm was cool and clammy in hers, but his fingers gripped hers hard, meaningfully._

Hershel died a little over a week later. Emma had woken up the morning he died knowing it was his time, and she was pretty sure he knew it too. There was a feeling hanging in the air all day and all night. So, when Hershel took his last breath late that night, Emma wasn't surprised. She had calmly covered him in the sheet, closed the door so that Skipper didn't get upset, and rode into town for the doctor and coroner. It hadn't been until Hershel's funeral, until everyone had departed from his resting place, that Emma had shed tears for the old man who had given her a home.

Emma wasn't going to trade or sell anything in Hershel's bedroom. She wasn't going to profit off of his clothes or his trinkets. She took a few articles of clothing for herself, and also some of his personal effects to remember him by. She took his flask, the portraits of his wives, and his pocketwatch. Everything else she would leave behind. Before she left his bedroom, she turned around and gave it one last look. Her eyes settled on the made bed. After a few moments, Emma quietly shut the door and started taking her things downstairs to pack up in the trunks.

When she finished packing the trunks, Emma stacked them on the porch. She would pack them up in the carriage in the morning. For the remainder of the evening, she was going to sit out on the porch swing with Skipper and a cold glass of milk. Emma let her hair down and kicked one leg out on the swing, using the other to slowly rock herself back and forth. Skipper laid at her feet, content.

The night sky was illuminated with thousands of tiny stars. Emma watched them twinkle as she sipped on her milk. She had spent many summer nights sitting out on the porch with Hershel and Skipper. Sometimes he would read aloud from the Bible to her. Sometimes they would whittle together. Other times they would talk, or sit in silence. On one night in particular, Hershel had taught Emma how to do something she had never been taught how to do.

_"You never went to a dance?" Hershel asked in amusement, turning towards Emma._

_ "Quit looking at me like that, damnit." Emma laughed, covering her face with a hand. "You're acting like I said I never saw the sky or felt the grass under my feet."_

_ "I just can't believe you never went to a dance." Hershel replied._

_ "Really, Hershel?" Emma asked, resting her face in her hand and cocking an eyebrow. "You can't believe that _I _never went to a dance?"_

_ "I suppose I can." Hershel chuckled._

_ Emma laughed quietly for a minute until Hershel got to his feet._

_ "What are you doing?" Emma asked._

_ Hershel turned and extended his hand out to Emma._

_ "I'm going to teach you how to dance." Hershel told Emma as-a-matter-of-factly._

_ "No, no." Emma waved her hands. "That's okay. I don't need to learn."_

_ "Come on, Emma." Hershel grabbed Emma's hand in his. "Humor an old man."_

_ Emma groaned as Hershel pulled her to her feet._

_ "Now, put your hand on my shoulder." Hershel said, placing his hand at Emma's waist. "Just follow my lead."_

_ Emma put her hand on Hershel's shoulder. Then, Hershel started to guide her around the porch. Emma felt painfully awkward as she tried to figure out where Hershel was leading her. She tried to figure out where he was moving ahead of time so that she could beat him there. She ended up stepping on Hershel's foot._

_ "I'm sorry!" Emma tried to let go of Hershel, but he held her fast._

_ "I told you, let me lead." Hershel said, slowing his steps. "Just let go and let me lead you. Trust me and let me lead."_

_ Emma sighed. Instead of trying to figure out what Hershel was doing, she stopped thinking entirely. She just focused on the sound of crickets chirping in the summer heat. She glanced up at the stars glowing in the night sky. She looked down at Skipper as he snored away on the porch floor. She focused on how nice it actually felt to sway slowly and rhythmically in a warm and comfortable place._

_ "See?" Hershel smiled. "You're doing fine, just fine."_

_ Emma smiled back at Hershel._

_ "I guess this isn't so bad." Emma admitted with an eye roll and a laugh._

_ Hershel slowly spun Emma out, then brought her back in._

* * *

><p><em>"Scarlet Town" - Gillian Welch <em>[Emma rides into Scarlet Town]

_"Please Read The Letter" - Alison Krauss & Robert Plant _[Emma reads Hershel's letter, Emma packs up the house/has Hershel flashbacks]

_"Now That You're Gone" - Ryan Adams & The Cardinals _ [Hershel teaches Emma to dance]


	2. Whiskey Kind of Girl

**Chapter 2 - Whiskey Kind of Girl**

Emma woke before the sun, just as she usually did. Normally, she would have gotten right out of bed so that she could start her chores for the day. That morning, Emma took her time. She laid still in bed under the covers, watching Skipper twitch in his sleep at her feet. She watched the light change outside. The sun would rise soon. Emma knew that no matter how long she laid in bed, she couldn't stop the inevitable. Within the next few days, the bank would take the farm. Emma didn't want to be there when their representatives came to claim Hershel's home. She knew she wouldn't have been able to bear it. So, Emma finally got out of bed.

Emma normally bathed at night after a hard day's work, but she had skipped her bath the night before. While water boiled on the stove, Emma fed and watered Skipper. She had a cup of strong black coffee and a piece of dry toast. It was surreal to think it would be her last breakfast in Hershel's kitchen. As she sat drinking her coffee and crunching on her toast, she could almost hear his voice swirling around her. She could hear his hearty laughter and his quiet chuckling. If Emma closed her eyes, it was as if Hershel had never died. They were eating a quick breakfast before getting out to work. Then, they would sit out on the porch with a couple of sandwiches before they finished up whatever else needed to be done. When Emma opened her eyes, she was alone.

When the water was hot, Emma poured it into a basin. She stripped out of her clothes and got into the piping hot water. Skipper came over to investigate, probably puzzled as to why Emma was bathing in the kitchen instead of out on the porch like she usually did. When he was satisfied that all was well, he returned to his food and water bowls. Emma soaked in the hot water, wondering what she was going to do. She planned to ride into Scarlet Town to see if there was any work she could find. If there was no work available, Emma would have to move on. She only had so much saved up. It would cost money to keep her carriage hitched up somewhere.

When the water started to cool, Emma got out of her bath so that she could freshen up and get dressed. She brushed through her loose, blonde curls until they more resembled waves. Then, she pinned those up into a bun at the back of her head. There were tendrils that got loose, but there was little to be done about them. They had minds of their own. She wore one of her men's shirts, a white one, which she tucked into her brown trousers. If she were going to work in that outfit, she would have worn a pair of suspenders.

With nothing more to do in the house, Emma started for the door. She turned and took one last look around. It would be the last time she would see it. The house that was so full of memories, that had been her home for the past five years, not to mention the most stable place she had ever known in her life. She would miss everything about it, from sitting by a warm fire in the winter to waking up every morning to the sound of someone else nearby moving around. Emma felt that she should do something to commemorate her last moment in the house, but she could think of nothing that would best represent just how much her time on the farm had meant to her. So, she did the only thing she knew how.

"Goodbye." Emma whispered to the empty house.

Hershel owned a small carriage. There was enough room for two people to sit on the bench, but barely enough room for the two trunks Emma had to load. They were stacked on top of each other. Emma secured them with heavy ropes while Skipper made himself comfortable on the bench. Then, she hitched Nelly up to the carriage. Emma glanced up every so often at Barrow, who had his head poked out of his stall. He was eyeing Emma curiously. He wanted to know what was going on. Emma wished she could tell him, but all she could do was go to his stall and pet him one last time. She looked up into the horse's brown eyes and tried to soothe him, but Barrow knew something was off.

Before it got any harder, Emma climbed up to sit on the bench next to Skipper. The old dog looked up at her with questioning eyes. Emma gave the dog what she could manage of a smile, and stroked his head until he laid it down in her lap. Then, Emma picked up the reigns. She clicked to signal Nelly that she was ready to go. The old horse didn't need any other encouragement. She started out of the barn and in the direction of town. Emma looked back at the house and the barn as they got smaller and smaller. It was too painful to watch them fade away, so Emma turned back around and didn't look back again. She had to leave the past behind her.

0o0o0

Emma's first stop in town would be the town watering hole. She had a dog and horse to water. So, Emma pulled the carriage up to the community troughs. She pulled Skipper into her arms and got out of the carriage. Emma set the dog on the ground. She made sure that Nelly was drinking before she got Skipper's bowl and dipped it into the trough. The dog lapped up the water noisily while Emma took a drink from her canteen. There was an inn across the street. She would go there to look for work. Either way, she would have to stay there.

When Nelly had all she needed, Emma guided her to the inn front. She tied her to a hitching post.

"Guard the carriage, Skipper." Emma pointed a finger at the dog while petting him with her other hand.

Emma headed into the inn. It was nothing fancy. There was a chow table open to any paying customers and a little bar that served liquor at night and gave out rooms during the day. The owner of the place, Ed Peletier, was behind the bar cleaning out a glass. Emma approached the bar. As she did, Ed looked up from his glass. He gave Emma a smile.

"Hello there, Ms. Thorne." Ed continued cleaning out the glass. "What brings you here today?"

"Morning, Mr. Peletier." Emma took a seat at the bar. "I'm sure it's all over town, what happened with Hershel's farm."

Ed shook his head.

"It's a crying shame." Ed stopped cleaning and sighed. "Hershel was a good man. It's a shame his farm won't stay in the family."

Ed looked down at Emma with a smile.

"By family, I mean you, not his devil children."

"In any case, the reason I'm here is 'cause I'm looking for work." Emma got straight to the point. She didn't have any kind of time to waste. "I was hoping you were looking for some extra help around here. I can do just about anything."

Ed set down the glass, handkerchief balled up inside of it. He set his hands flat down on the bar with a sigh.

"If I could help you out, I would, but I can't afford to hire anyone."

"Do you know of anywhere else in town I could go looking?" Emma asked.

"I don't, but you might try asking the reverend." Ed suggested. "If anyone's looking for extra help, he'll know about it. He'll be able to put in a good word for you, too."

"Thanks, Mr. Peletier." Emma got up from the barstool.

Emma wasn't going to beg Mr. Peletier to reconsider. He could be nice enough, but Emma knew he was a hard nosed man with a short temper. His wife was a quiet little thing because she knew better than to speak out against him.

After checking on Skipper and Nelly, Emma headed down the street towards the reverend's house. It was one of the nicer homes in town with sharp black shutters and a bright red front door to match the name of the town. There was a chapel inside on the first floor. That was where Hershel's service had been held. He and the reverend had been close friends. Emma liked the reverend and his youngest daughter, Amy. His oldest daughter, Andrea, was a different story. She was stuck up and self righteous. She didn't approve of Emma at all, and hated when Amy tried to speak with her or spend any kind of time around her.

Emma knocked on the reverend's door and waited. A few moments later, Amy answered the door with a smile. She was eight years younger than Emma and looked the part with her innocent face and pastel dresses. The ribbons keeping her hair in braids matched her dress perfectly. She looked like a doll.

"Emma!" Amy exclaimed excitedly, throwing her arms around Emma.

"How are you, Amy?" Emma asked, returning the girl's embrace.

Suddenly, though, Amy was letting go of Emma. She looked down at her shoes.

"I'm sorry about the farm, Emma." Amy murmured solemnly.

"Oh, Amy, stop." Emma reached out for Amy's hand so that she would look up at her. "You don't have anything to be sorry about. I'm glad to see you, too."

Amy's smile slowly returned. She squeezed Emma's hand.

"Let's go inside." Amy tugged on Emma so that she would follow. "My pa would love to see you."

Emma closed the door behind her when Amy let go of her hand.

"Pa!" Amy called from the bottom of the stairs. "Pa, Emma's here!"

Amy turned around.

"Let's go sit in the parlor room." Amy suggested, already skipping into the next room.

Emma went into the parlor room after Amy. There were two floral couches across from each other. Amy was seated on one of them. She patted the cushion next to her. Emma sat down beside Amy. She knew Amy and her older sister weren't very close. Andrea was nearly thirty. By the time Amy was born, Andrea was married and living with her husband on the other side of town. She never was able to have children and her husband died in a farming accident around the time Emma came to be on Hershel's farm. Andrea still lived on the other side of town, but she was hardly ever there. It was as if she was trying to make up for lost time with her sister, but the girls had almost nothing in common. The only thing they both enjoyed was fishing with their father.

"What are you doing here in town?" Amy asked, adjusting one of her hair ribbons.

"Well, you know about the farm. I'm here looking for work." Emma leaned into the couch.

"Where are you staying?" Amy asked.

"I suppose I'll stay at the inn." Emma brushed strands of hair out of her face. "Skipper's there now keeping watch over everything."

"You brought Skipper?" Amy asked, her eyes lighting up.

"Of course I brought Skipper." Emma laughed. "You didn't think I'd leave him behind for the bank to take, too?"

Amy suddenly grabbed both of Emma's hands.

"You should stay here with us." Amy said with a bright smile. "I would just love that. I'm sure Pa would, too. He likes you."

"Amy," Emma released one of Amy's hands so she could pat hers, "you should know better than to say things like that without your daddy's permission. This is his house."

Amy sighed.

"You're right." Amy looked down at her lap. "I was being selfish. I was just thinking of how much fun it would be to have you and Skipper here."

Emma placed her hand warmly on Amy's shoulder.

"You were gracious to think of me like that." Emma reassured the girl.

"A father always likes to hear that his daughter has been gracious." The reverend's voice came suddenly from the foyer.

Emma stood up as Amy got up off the sofa to kiss her daddy on the cheek. Reverend Horvath looked away from his youngest daughter to smile at Emma. He was dressed in his black clerical clothes, but that wasn't uncommon. It was rare to see the reverend out of uniform, so to speak.

Emma went to greet the reverend once Amy had stepped away from him.

"Reverend." Emma held her hand out to him.

"Please, Emma, you are my guest. Call me Dale." The reverend shook Emma's hand enthusiastically. "Now, may I ask how my daughter was being gracious just a few moments ago?"

Emma saw the look of horror flash across Amy's face.

"Amy was just concerned about my lodging while I'm here in town." Emma covered for Amy quickly so that the reverend wouldn't be cross with her for offering up the house without his permission. "I let her know that I would be staying at the inn."

The reverend first looked at Amy, then at Emma.

"Have you already rented a room?" Reverend Horvath asked.

"Not yet." Emma replied, putting her hands into her pockets. "Ed sent me here in the hopes that you knew of anyone in town looking for work."

The reverend made a fist.

"Emma, I'm so sorry." The reverend apologized. "Like everyone else, I just assumed the farm would be yours after your meeting with Cap. Had I known you would be looking for work, I would have put in a good word with Gideon."

Gideon Hawkins owned the only general store in town. He and his wife, Lorna, lived above it. Whenever Hershel had needed supplies for the farm, he and Emma had gone to Gideon for all of their needs.

"Were they looking for help at the store?" Emma asked, crestfallen that she had missed out on the opportunity to claim a job.

"They were, indeed." Reverend Horvath sighed and put his hand to his forehead. "I am so sorry, Emma."

"There's nothing for you to be sorry for, Reverend."

"Maybe Miss Westin would like some help at the school house." Amy piped up, hoping to be of some help.

Emma knew she had to get out on the town while the day was still young. She would already be spending money on a room at the inn, plus extra for every day her carriage took up space in front of the inn. She needed to find work or move on. To where, she didn't know.

"Thank you anyway, Reverend, Amy." Emma reached out to shake the reverend's hand again before leaving. "I'll try to call on you again while I'm still here in town."

"Still here?" Amy asked concernedly, following after Emma as she made her way to the front door.

"Emma, wait a moment." The reverend said as Emma reached for the doorknob.

Emma turned to face the reverend and his daughter, who looked very worried about what Emma had just said.

"The reason I asked before about the room is because I was going to suggest that you stay here with us." Reverend Horvath put his arm around Amy. "We'd be glad to have you."

Emma was surprised by the reverend's offer. He had always been kind to her, but she would have never expected that he would offer his home to her. She hadn't even considered that possibility when planning out her course of action after leaving the farm. When Amy had made the suggestion before, Emma hadn't taken it seriously. Amy was just an excited teenager making offers she shouldn't have been making without her father's permission. Emma wasn't sure if the reverend had overheard his daughter or not, so she was unsure as to what his motives were for opening up his home.

"I couldn't." Emma blurted out immediately. When she saw the surprise and confusion on the reverend's face, plus Amy's protruding bottom lip, Emma quickly softened her tone. "It's very generous of you, but I couldn't possibly intrude on your routine."

"How could you intrude if I'm making the offer?" The reverend asked, lowering a quirked eyebrow. "How could your presence possibly be an intrusion?"

"Please, Emma?" Amy begged, but her daddy rubbed her arm to silence her.

"I..." Emma glanced behind her at the door. "I don't know how long I would be here."

"It doesn't matter to me whether or not you're here for one day or one year." The reverend let go of his daughter to put both of his hands in his pockets. "Hershel was a good friend of mine. The fact of the matter is, had I known the farm would be taken from you, I would have asked you to come and stay with us the day of his funeral."

Emma could see and hear that the reverend was being genuine. In any case, she figured she couldn't accuse a man of the cloth of being disingenuous. Before living with Hershel, Emma had her reservations when it came to people. She was cynical and skeptical, but then Hershel taught her that there were some people who were truly good and pure of heart. If Hershel trusted the reverend, Emma would, too.

"If I'm going to stay here, I insist on working around here for you." Emma looked up from the floor after making her decision.

The reverend took a few steps towards Emma with a sigh.

"If you feel it necessary to clean up or cook a little from time to time, I won't put up a fuss." Reverend Horvath cracked a smile. "I'm glad you reconsidered."

Amy enveloped Emma in a hug. She then asked Emma if she needed any help bringing the carriage over. Emma insisted that she return for her things alone. She still needed to look for work while she still had daylight. Even though the reverend had told Emma she could stay as long as she wanted to, she knew she couldn't stay forever. She didn't _want _to stay forever. Emma wanted a place of her own. She wanted to work hard for a home that was all hers.

Emma returned to where she had left the carriage. She saw right away that there was a man standing beside it. He was dressed well, wearing a pair of black slacks with a high collared, white shirt. Over his shirt he wore a maroon vest and a fitted gray coat. He had a black hat in one hand, while the other was petting a lounging Skipper. Emma approached the carriage loudly, getting the attention of the stranger. He looked up at her with a smile.

"I thought I told you to guard the carriage, you useless dog." Emma scolded the lazy dog, but he didn't seem to care.

The man laughed and ruffled Skipper's fur.

"I didn't mean to get you in trouble, boy."

"Can I ask what you're doing, sir?" Emma asked, locking eyes with the stranger from the other side of the carriage.

The man suddenly stopped laughing.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, ma'am-"

"You didn't scare me." Emma corrected the stranger. "I asked what you were doing."

The man held his hat in both hands.

"You probably don't remember me, ma'am, but we crossed paths yesterday morning in front of the courthouse." The stranger explained. "I held the door for you as you were going in."

Emma thought back to the moment the stranger was referring to. She remembered a man opening the door for her, but she had been so consumed with the meeting she was headed to that she hadn't been paying attention to anything or anyone else.

"I remember." Emma tucked a blonde wave behind her ear. "I'm sorry for being so rude. You were only petting my dog."

"You don't have to apologize, ma'am." The man smiled over at Emma. "We haven't been properly introduced, so I could understand why you would be protective of your belongings."

Emma reached for Nelly's reigns.

"Well, if you would excuse me-"

"My name is Clarke Dunlap." The man introduced himself as he walked around the front of the carriage towards Emma, hand outstretched. "Can I ask your name, ma'am?"

Emma gave Clarke's hand a quick shake before she grabbed hold of Nelly's reigns to lead the horse away from the inn. Skipper yawned from his perch.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Dunlap." Emma said simply as she walked past Clarke in the direction of the reverend's house.

"Nice to meet you too, ma'am!" Clarke exclaimed after Emma.

Emma rolled her eyes as she made her way to the reverend's house, but she did glance back once to see Clarke watching her with a grin.

0o0o0

Emma's job hunt was fruitless that first day. Her first night in the reverend's home was somewhat awkward. Amy had done up Andrea's old bedroom for Emma by the time she had returned to the house that evening after searching for work. The bed was freshly made, the furniture had been dusted, and all of Emma's things had been put away. Skipper slept tucked up into bed with Emma. He had lived his whole life at Hershel's farm. Being in a new house was just as jarring for him as it was for Emma. She took comfort in his warm fur, pressing her nose to him so that she could smell the scent of the barn. It took her several hours to fall asleep.

Bright and early the next morning, Emma was up and dressed to get back out in town. She left Skipper behind knowing that Amy would dote on him until she returned. As she descended the stairs to leave, the front door opened. In walked Andrea, whose eyes immediately settled on Emma. They narrowed as she closed the door quietly behind her. She had a basket in one hand. It was full of apples. The other hand settled on her hip.

"Morning, Andrea." Emma greeted Andrea, biting the bullet she couldn't dodge.

"Good morning, Emma." Andrea replied through pursed lips. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm in town looking for work." Emma answered. "Your father was kind enough to offer up his house to me until I'm on my feet."

Andrea lifted both eyebrows, then scoffed.

"You actually took him up on his offer?" Andrea asked in disbelief.

"I did." Emma replied, taking a step to the side. "I'm on my way out right now to start my search again."

As Emma made her way out into the street, she heard the door open behind her.

"Damnit." Emma mumbled to herself before she turned around.

Andrea was without her basket of apples. Her blonde hair was pulled up underneath a lavender bonnet, a navy blue ribbon tucked under her chin. Her large skirt swayed from side to side as she made her way down the steps towards Emma.

"I just can't believe you actually took my father up on his offer." Andrea smoothed her skirt as she spoke.

"Andrea, I'm on my way out to look for work." Emma replied frankly, wanting to avoid having any kind of conversation with Andrea, especially pertaining to her staying at the reverend's house. "If you have a problem with me being here, take it up with your daddy."

"I'm speaking with _you_." Andrea said coolly. "Before you even think about it, don't try to cause a scene in front of my father's house. I heard all about your run in with Maggie Brooks outside the courthouse yesterday."

Emma cracked a smile as Andrea prattled on about her encounter with Maggie.

"That wasn't me causing a scene." Emma reassured Andrea with a shake of her head.

"Oh?" Andrea lifted an eyebrow.

"No." Emma shook her head. "You'll know when I cause a scene, Andrea."

Andrea appeared very taken aback by Emma's reply.

"If you'll excuse me, then."

Without another word, Emma was on her way. She heard the door shut as she crossed the street to walk along the other side of the dirt road. Andrea didn't bother Emma in the sense that Maggie did, but boy, was she a nuisance at times. Emma didn't understand her demeanor towards her. She figured that if anyone in town could understand Emma, Andrea would. They were both older and single. Andrea lost her husband, but if she wanted, she could already be married again. There were more men in Scarlet Town than women. It was why women didn't stay single for long once they were old enough to be married.

As Emma made her way through town, she suddenly heard a sound to her left. She turned to see Carol Peletier standing in the alley outside the inn. Carol was small and thin. She had that look about her that a strong wind would knock her over. She kept her light, graying hair short. She and Ed had a child late in life, a daughter called Sophia. Carol motioned for Emma to come into the alley. Emma was curious, so she did.

"I heard you were looking for work." Carol spoke in a hushed voice.

"I am." Emma said slowly, confused by Carol's behavior. "I talked to your husband yesterday. He said he couldn't afford to hire anyone."

"That's true, but I had an idea." Carol explained quietly. "You're a good cook, right? Hershel always went on and on about your cooking."

Emma nodded along with what Carol was saying.

"What if you cooked here for us?" Carol asked, glancing over her shoulder quickly. "I usually cook lunch and supper for anyone who wanders in, but without any help, work has been piling up around here and Ed won't..."

Carol looked down at the ground, but before Emma could speak, she looked back up.

"We would both get something out of it. You would be able to cook in the hopes that somebody would hire you and I could have time off from cooking to do other things around here."

"That sounds okay, but what if nobody bites?" Emma folded her arms over her chest. "I can't just keep cooking for ya'll for free. I need money."

"I understand." Carol nodded. "Let's give it a week? Two at the most?"

Emma thought it over. Since she was staying with the reverend, she could afford to work for the Peletiers' for free for a week or two. That would be her limit, though. She didn't want to stay with the reverend and Amy forever.

"All right." Emma agreed. "I'll do it."

"There's just one more thing. I was hoping you would...well, I was hoping you would talk to Ed yourself, make it sound like it was your idea?" Carol admitted sheepishly.

Emma lifted an eyebrow. At first, she wasn't fond of the idea of inquiring about work with Ed only a day after she had already asked. She knew she would look weak and desperate, but then she remembered that stormy night in Hershel's barn.

"All right, Carol." Emma sighed, uncrossing her arms. "You've got yourself a deal."

0o0o0

Ed reacted just the way Emma figured he would. He was very visibly annoyed with Emma for approaching him again about work. After pointing out how much free time Mrs. Peletier would have if Emma did the cooking for the next couple of weeks, and for free to boot, Ed saw the light. He quickly agreed to accept Emma's offer after that. Of course, he wanted Emma to start right away. So, she threw on an apron and got to work making lunch. After taking inventory of all the Peletiers' had in their kitchen, Emma decided on chili.

Emma heated oil in a good quality _and _good sized skillet so that she could brown the three pounds of chuck she had already seasoned up. It was working to her advantage to be in a well stocked kitchen where she could truly show off her stuff. As Emma cooked, she didn't have to hunt far for the things she needed - beans, seasonings, cornmeal, flour. Emma even found the time to cook up rice and rolls to go with her chili. By the time she had finished, the delicious smells wafting out of the kitchen had attracted double the amount of customers the Peletiers' usually had for lunch. When Emma came out of the kitchen with a pot of rice in one hand and a basket of rolls in the other, the men at the long table cheered.

"Smells good, miss." One of the men licked his chops as he reached for a roll.

Emma smacked him on the back of his hand with her wooden spoon.

"You boys wait until I come back with this chili, you hear?" Emma pointed her spoon at the men sitting impatiently around the table.

"You don't mess with Emma, boys." Al Smith warned the men sitting around him.

"That's right." Emma agreed, pointing one last time at the man who had tried to serve himself. "You wait like a good boy."

"Yes, ma'am." The man complied softly, rubbing his hand.

Emma returned to the kitchen for the chili. She spooned some into each and every one of the bowls when they were lifted up to her. When everyone was served, she gave the go ahead for them to pass the rolls and the rice to each other. It was at that point that the conversation picked back up, and the inn became cheerfully noisy. The men licked their bowls clean and promised Ed they would be back for supper so long as Emma was cooking. Ed was thrilled.

Emma started cleaning up the dishes when she noticed someone watching her. She turned to see Sophia standing near the bar, a schoolbook tucked under her arm. Her face was covered in light freckles and her dirty blonde hair curled in at the ends. She was watched Emma carefully, as though she were studying her for a school assignment.

"How was school, Miss Peletier?" Emma asked the young girl as she stacked up the bowls.

"I gotta go back in a little while." Sophia mumbled, looking down at her shoes. "Miss Westin is helping me with my arithmetic."

"Is that so?" Emma asked, wiping down the table with the rag that had been tucked into her apron.

"Yeah." Sophia slowly approached the table. "I'm not so good with it."

"I never was either." Emma replied, tucking the rag back into her apron.

"Did you go to school?" Sophia asked.

"No." Emma shook her head as she picked up the bowls to take into the kitchen.

Emma could hear and sense Sophia trailing after her.

"How come?" Sophia asked.

"I was too busy working to go to school." Emma explained, depositing the bowls onto the counter.

"I think I'd rather work than go to school." Sophia admitted quietly.

Emma turned around towards the little girl. Their eyes met.

"No you wouldn't." Emma placed her hands on her hips. "Do you know how lucky you are to be getting an education? I can tell that you don't. You should be grateful for Miss Westin, and for parents that send you to class so that you can learn."

"Why?" Sophia asked.

"Learning, knowing things, is an important part of life." Emma replied simply.

"More important than working?"

"How do you think you become a good worker?" Emma asked. "You're able to get things done because you've learned how to do them. How else do you think the town doctor cures people when they're sick, or how the midwife births babies, or how Miss Westin is able to teach you kids arithmetic?"

Sophia was silent.

"It's because they learned how to do those things." Emma murmured. "They were taught in classrooms and in schoolhouses, just like the one you go to every day."

Emma looked at Sophia and wondered how her life would have been different had she gone to school. She wondered where she would be and what she would be doing. She wondered what her life would have looked like, but she had no concept of anything different other than what she had been doing her whole life.

"Run along back to school, Sophia." Emma went to the door leading outside. "I have water to fetch and dishes to do, or would you rather stay and help me?"

Sophia looked down at her book.

"No thanks." Sophia shook her head before jogging out the door.

Emma washed the dishes she had used, then returned to the reverend's house. The reverend was in his office writing his Sunday sermon while Amy had taken Skipper out for a walk through town. So, Emma quietly cleaned around the house so as not to disturb Reverend Horvath. She dusted the furniture, swept the hardwood floors, and gave the pews in the chapel a good wipe down. The work kept Emma busy until she had to return to the inn to make supper. While she tidied up, she thought about what she would make that night. By the time she finished up the housework, she had decided on fried chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy.

There were already men seated at the table when Emma arrived at the inn. Others were sitting at the bar. As Emma made her way into the kitchen, she recognized Clarke Dunlap sipping on what appeared to be whiskey. When their eyes met, Emma looked away from him before he could smile or speak to her. She wondered why he had shown up at the inn. She knew it couldn't be a coincidence that the day before he had been petting her dog just outside the inn and now he found himself inside after Emma had landed the cooking gig. Emma wondered, as she went out back to kill a few chickens for dinner, if Clarke was interested in her. Men had never really paid her any mind, or if they had, Emma hadn't paid enough attention to notice.

When dinner was ready, Emma carried the pot of mashed potatoes and the skillet full of gravy out to the table. She wasn't surprised to see Clarke seated there. She avoided his gaze once again before returning to the kitchen for the chicken. She couldn't help it when the corners of her mouth lifted when she saw that the men had waited patiently for her return without helping themselves to the potatoes and gravy. Emma slowly made her way around the table, plating the fried chicken along the way. When she got to Clarke, she finally spoke.

"What are you doing here?" Emma muttered just loud enough for his ears.

Clarke smiled up at Emma. He smelled like soap and aftershave.

"I heard you were a great cook." Clarke replied sweetly.

Emma ignored Clarke's compliment as she moved onto the next man. When everyone had been served their chicken, Emma disappeared into the kitchen as they fell onto the mashed potatoes and gravy. She kept herself busy with dishes, but she found herself wondering if Clarke was enjoying the meal and if he was still sitting at the table. As she scrubbed the dishes, Emma tried to decide why she was wondering. Was it because she was hoping Clarke was in need of a cook, or was it because she was intrigued by his interest in her? Emma had to admit that Clarke was attractive in a very put together way. His eyeglasses were polished and his hair was neat and greased. Emma caught a glance of herself in a small mirror hanging on the wall. Several waves had not only snuck out of her bun, but they had curled themselves back into tight spirals. There were suds on her face and neck, not to mention the wet spots on her blouse from splashing water on herself as she washed the dishes. She was a mess. How could someone like Clarke be interested in Emma?

When the dishes were done, Emma went out to collect the men's plates. Most of the men had stayed for a drink, but some of them had gone home. As Emma picked up the dishes, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked up to see Carol approaching her. She had a glass of whiskey in her hand.

"This is from the gentleman at the bar in the brown vest, Mr. Dunlap." Carol explained as she held the whiskey out to Emma.

Emma looked at the bar and saw Clarke sitting there. He lifted a glass to her, wearing the same brilliant smile as before.

"I can't." Emma told Carol as she picked up another plate. "I need to finish up here."

"Let me clean up." Carol said, setting the whiskey down on the table. "You're here to cook, not to clean."

Carol took the stack of dishes and was on her way before Emma could protest. Emma glanced back at the bar. Clarke used his free hand to motion for her. He wanted her to join him at the bar. Emma looked down at the whiskey. She hadn't had a drink in years. Hershel had sworn alcohol off. Emma had been respectful of his lifestyle. She considered her options. She could return to the reverend's home, or she could stay for a drink. Emma had to admit that her discomfort with living under the reverend's roof made the drink very enticing. Before she had truly decided one way or another, Emma found herself carrying the whiskey to the bar to sit beside Clarke.

"I'm sorry for the assumption, but you just seem like a whiskey kind of girl." Clarke nodded to Emma's drink, which she had yet to have a sip of.

Emma picked up the glass. She had a taste of the whiskey. It set her mouth on fire, burning its way down her throat. She swirled the brown liquid around in the glass. The taste reminded her of years that she had put behind her long ago.

"I am." Emma murmured, studying the glass for a moment before setting it back down.

"Supper was delicious." Clarke leaned back in his stool, rubbing his hands up and down his stomach once. "In fact, delicious doesn't even begin to describe it."

"Thank you." Emma replied politely, keeping her eyes on her drink.

Clarke suddenly chuckled. Emma turned to look at him as he shook his head.

"What?" Emma asked, missing the joke.

Clarke returned to an upright position.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Clarke asked, having a sip of his drink.

Emma shrugged.

"I guess not."

"Is it me?" Clarke asked, setting his drink back down.

"Yes." Emma replied bluntly, turning her head to look Clarke in the eye.

Clarke lifted his eyebrows, but he cracked a lopsided smile in confliction with his surprise and confusion.

"What I mean is, I don't know you." Emma continued, running a finger around the rim of her glass without taking her eyes from Clarke's. "I'm not much of a talker to begin with, but when I'm unfamiliar with someone..."

"I see." Clarke gave Emma a nod before he had another drink.

"I'm sorry if that's offensive-"

"No you aren't." Clarke interrupted, setting his glass down.

"Excuse me?" Emma asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't believe that you'd be sorry if what you said offended me, and if you are you shouldn't be." Clarke explained. "In any case, what you said didn't offend me."

Emma was further intrigued by Clarke Dunlap.

"Clarke, just what is it that you want out of this?" Emma asked right out.

Clarke turned towards Emma. He ran a hand through his dark hair, then wiped his greasy fingers on a handkerchief he produced from inside his vest pocket. Emma watched Clarke carefully as he removed his glasses to polish them with his hanky. It took her only a few moments to realize that Clarke had suddenly become nervous. She stifled a smile as he cleared his throat several times before he finally answered her question.

"Since you have been so blunt with me, I suppose I should extend the same courtesy to you." Clarke cleared his throat again. "I think you're very interesting, and the fact of the matter is...I like you."

Clarke lowered his eyes after his reveal. He ran his palms up and down his slacks. Emma reached out for his drink and picked it up. That caused Clarke to look up. Emma offered the drink to him, which he gratefully took from her. He drank more liberally from the glass than he had before.

"Do you feel better now?" Emma asked, allowing a small smile to seize her lips.

Clarke sputtered after such a large swallow of whiskey. Emma's smile grew.

"I'm not sure." Clarke returned Emma's smile as he wiped his mouth with his handkerchief.

Emma took a sip of her own whiskey as she thought about what Clarke had said. He liked her, but why? They barely knew each other. It suddenly donned on Emma that she had never even given Clarke her name. How could Clarke be interested in a woman whose name he didn't even know? It seemed silly to Emma, foolish even.

"You know, Clarke, you don't even know my name." Emma pointed out.

"What does that matter?" Clarke asked.

"Come on." Emma set her drink down. "You seem like a practical person."

"I would say that's a fair assumption." Clarke replied.

"Would you say it's practical for a man to become interested in a woman before he even knows her name?"

"Maybe not." Clarke admitted sheepishly.

"Well, there you have it." Emma finished her drink. "You simply can't have made up your mind about whether or not you like me already. Now, thank you for the drink, but I should be getting home-"

"Wait." Clarke raised his hands as Emma started to rise.

Emma sat back down.

"Let me guess your name."

"What?" Emma asked, her brow furrowing.

"We'll even make a wager to make things interesting." Clarke finished his drink too.

"What sort of wager?" Emma asked warily.

"If I don't guess your name, I'll buy you another drink tomorrow night." Clarke looked down at the floor momentarily before continuing with his idea. "If I do guess your name...I get to kiss you goodnight...on the hand of course."

Emma had to admit that she was impressed Clarke had gotten up the nerve to ask for a kiss, even if it was only on the hand.

"The way I see it, Clarke, you're coming out a winner either way." Emma folded her arms over her chest.

Clarke laughed.

"Give me three guesses."

"All right." Emma agreed with a nod. "You have three guesses."

Clarke fingered his chin as he became lost in thought as to what Emma's name could be. She rested her elbow on the bar, her chin in the palm of her hand. Even though she had been defensive before, Clarke seemed pretty harmless to her. There wasn't a single thing he said all night that signaled a red flag in Emma's mind.

"Is it...Sarah?" Clarke asked. "You look like you could be a Sarah."

"No." Emma replied without lifting her head from her hand.

"Rats." Clarke mumbled, snapping his fingers. "All right. Let's see then..."

Clarke thought it over for a few more minutes before he guessed again.

"Mary?"

Emma shook her head.

"That was a wasted guess." Clarke sighed. "You don't look like a Mary."

"You have one more guess." Emma said, eyeing the clock on the wall.

"Just give me a minute." Clarke insisted. "I almost have it."

Emma waited, glancing at the clock every few seconds. She didn't want to arrive at the reverend's house too late and wake him or Amy.

"Is your name...Emma?" Clarke asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Are you a medium?" Emma asked flatly. "How ever did you guess?"

Clarke hung his head, but grinned.

"Was it that obvious that I already knew?" Clarke asked.

"It was." Emma replied, standing up. "Now, I really do have to go."

"Should I walk you home, Ms. Thorne?" Clarke asked as Emma started to walk past him.

"That wasn't part of your wager, Clarke." Emma wagged her finger at him.

"Well, goodnight then, Ms. Thorne." Clarke stood up to see Emma off.

"Goodnight." Emma repeated as she walked towards the door.

Emma turned to glance over her shoulder as she opened the door to leave. Clarke was watching her go, a smile stretched from ear to ear. Emma gave him a little wave over her shoulder as she left the inn and headed back to the reverend's home.

* * *

><p><em>"Orphan Girl" - Gillian Welch <em>[Emma gets ready to leave, leaves the farm]

_"Wrecking Ball" - Gillian Welch _[Emma works at the inn]

_"Whiskey Girl" - Gillian Welch _[Night life at the inn/Emma talks with Clarke]


End file.
